


Never Be Again

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: Social Network (2010)
Genre: Angry Sex, Angst, M/M, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-02-02
Updated: 2011-02-02
Packaged: 2017-10-15 07:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/158551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They touch more now than they ever did when they were friends. [For Porn Battle XI, angry sex.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Be Again

**Author's Note:**

> For Porn Battle XI, for prompts aftermath and broken.

It always starts with a conversation like this:  
“Playing witness for the enemy again?”  
“They asked me a question, Mark.”  
“And you told the committee that you couldn’t comment on specifics but you would never trust _your_ client’s personal information to Facebook’s lax security protocols.”  
“I wouldn’t.”  
“You can’t comment on specifics because you have no fucking idea what our security protocols are.”  
Eduardo keeps holding Mark’s hand in a shake, grip tight enough to bruise. Mark keeps talking through his gritted teeth. At some point during the evening, Eduardo will slip him a hotel room key.

The irony is that they touch more now than they ever did when they were friends. They attend a lot of the same events and spend most of their time trying to convince everyone else that they don’t hate each other. Appearances matter to both of them, and they put on a good show. Eduardo is just getting his cheap thrills where he can. Mark doesn’t like to be touched; Eduardo had spent the best part of two years with his fingertips a measured half-inch from Mark’s back. Now he drapes his arm over the stiff line of Mark’s shoulders and pretends that he doesn’t want to put his hands around Mark’s neck and squeeze. He pretends that this is friendliness and lays his hands on all the places he never did when Mark’s approval still mattered. It’s so much easier to touch Mark now that he doesn’t care.

Mark seems to think about it the same way. At Harvard, Eduardo was head over heels for Mark and this was never an option. Mark must find Eduardo’s contempt more interesting than his affection. Because he doesn’t care, Mark will let Eduardo push him flat on the bed and press him open too quickly. Because Eduardo can’t tell anyone, Mark will twist on the sheets, panting nonsense and forcing his legs wider. Eduardo will _touch touch touch_ because Mark isn’t going to stop him. He fists his hands in Mark’s hair and pulls his head back and bites the uncaring slant of his neck. He doesn’t say please, or ask nicely. They’re only here together in the hotel room for this one thing – if Mark didn’t want it he would walk away.

Mark will ask now, because he doesn’t need anything else. He doesn’t need Eduardo’s money or his friendship or the veneer of professionalism that having a CFO like Eduardo might have given him once. Mark needs this, and so he asks. He bucks his hips up, trying to quicken Eduardo’s pace. “Please,” he says. “Touch me. I need you to touch me.” Naked desire, no obfuscation, no ‘don’t tell him I said that’. Just: I need you to touch me. His cock swells, red and hard, not quite brushing Eduardo’s stomach when he moves. Not quite because Eduardo is holding him down with one hand.

“Stay still,” Eduardo says. “Or I’ll leave you here like this and go find someone who can.”

Mark nods, biting his lip.

“I didn’t say stop talking.”

“I bet your father would be so proud of you right now,” Mark says, in a light conversational tone belied by his shakes. He’s so tight. It’s been four months since the last time. Mark says, “Fucking me right back. This is how a man does business, isn’t it?”

Eduardo pushes in, faster, with Mark bent around him at an uncomfortable angle and gasping. Mark’s fingernails bite into Eduardo’s arm; Eduardo will match him scratch for scratch.

Mark keeps talking. “I wonder what it is that I have, that you can’t get out there in New York, playing responsible businessman with your fuck you Dolce and your slicked back hair. Trying to act like you weren’t blowing me ten hours before that in an alley behind a conference centre in Palo Alto.” His mouth purses on that, looking like the kiss they’ll never have, now.

Eduardo shrugs and pulls back, feeling Mark holding onto him with all he’s got. He aches all over, bruised and burning up. Eduardo doesn’t feel guilty about wanting Mark now. What could be more natural than wanting the guy who screwed him over pinned beneath him on the bed, finally breathing, “Eduardo,” into the heavy silence? Then, what could be more natural than wanting the guy who took you for six hundred million dollars and a considerable chunk of your self-righteousness to keep coming back to you, again and again, with a key to his hotel room? Than wanting the person you hate most to need you more than you need them. It’s still a connection, and they’re both so very good at making those. In answer, Eduardo presses in, slow and hard, making the bed shift underneath them.

Mark stares right at him, giving Eduardo his full attention. Eduardo is under no illusion that Mark is less angry, or that Mark hates Eduardo any less than Eduardo hates him. Mark hates him because there had been a time, not very long ago, where Mark had thought that they might be able to work past the lawsuit. Because Eduardo had surprised Mark, in not offering his forgiveness, and Mark hates to be shown up in a mistake. They are equals now - a depth of feeling which finally goes both ways. They collide and they peel each other open, Mark spread out beneath him and Eduardo needing him just that way. They orbit each other - inauspicious stars - and this is always how it ends. Eduardo pulls out first, striping over Mark’s chest before rubbing once, twice, thrice up and down Mark’s cock. He leaves Mark shivering through the after-shocks and heads into the bathroom. Eduardo watches through the steamed-up shower door as Mark cleans himself up in the sink before leaving. He’s always gone before Eduardo gets out of the shower.

Downstairs they pose for a photo-op. It always ends with a conversation like this:  
Eduardo says, “I still hate you,” through his smile, his arm settled around Mark’s waist.  
Mark leans back into Eduardo’s hand and says, “I don’t actually like you much either.”  
There’s a shareholder’s meeting in six weeks. This is what they have now.


End file.
